orla sutherland { 12 } done

s t a r g a z e r

Each night I would awaken under the stars in a bed of grass. The lights would sparkle in my hazel eyes as my aunt gently clutches my hand in one of hers, and in her other hand she would point out the constellations. They would line up before my eyes, each telling their own distinct stories of how they made their way to the stars. Gemini, Orion, Perseus, Taurus.

She would tell me the story of Andromeda, The Chained Lady, whenever nightmares plagued me. She spoke of how Cassiopeia would not recant her prideful statements and how, as punishment, she would need to leave her daughter to die at the hands of a sea monster. However, just before she could be eaten alive, she was lifted by tender arms into heaven where she became one with the stars.

She tells me that, because my mother left me in her care, I will one day be lifted and join Andromeda in the sky. I will be lifted from my fears and worries to a place among the stars where nothing can hurt me ever again,

I know they're just stories, a method to calm me down when I'm upset or sad, but they bring an odd comfort to me. They cease the implacable self-doubt that clenches my movements during the day.

I know that I'm not really related to my aunt. I just call her that because it provides a sense of closeness to the only person who has shown me kindness in my life. I never knew my dad, I just knew my mom. She had never loved me. She was too worried about getting her next dose of morphine than making sure I got food. It left me more scrawny and famished than most of the already dilapidated district.

Then, when I was eight, she moved a few doors down. She made sure that I had a place to go to after school every day. She made sure that I had a place to eat. She made sure that I had a place I could call home. When she finally told my mom that she wanted to make sure that I was safe, that she wanted to start taking care of me, my mom had been all too eager to let me go.

I was ecstatic to be with my new aunt, but my young mind never could comprehend why my mother had just let me go so easily.

I felt useless.

Worthless.

Those whispers in my head have haunted my life, leaving every movement I make drenched with worry that I'm doing something wrong and that somehow, no matter how irrational, I would be abandoned once more.

So when I managed to get a pity-based job at a florist, I worked hard. In school, I studied hard even though my efforts were often left behind each time I looked down at a test. I tried to be the best I could be, but in my head, it was never enough.

The stress seeped into my dreams, leaving me with sleepless nights and bags under my brown eyes. The image of the last time I had seen my mom's face-- from a few years ago when I visited her, gaunt and frail from the life ruined by drugs-- had been burned into the back of my eyelids. The fear and worries, the thoughts that I did something to have turned her into this, propped my eyes wide open.

Those were the nights my aunt would steal me away from my bed into a grassy clearing near the fence a few miles from my house. We would lie on the earthly pillow, and her arm would reach up into the sky. She would take my gentle, graceful finger in her hand and help me trace the ancient stories. Aurgia, Bootes, Cygnus.

My favorite was Delphinus the Dolphin.

It's what inspired me to take up singing. It was something I kept small and to myself, keeping it quiet in fear that someone will not like it. All I want is to be able to sing in front of a crowd; it's the only thing I ever felt that I was truly good at. But no, I couldn't ever bring myself to join my school's small choir or find another way to express myself besides to myself. Alone, in my room, when I couldn't sleep and my aunt's long hours hadn't brought her home soon enough to save me from my thoughts, I would sit in dim light to write out lyrics. They flow from me, letting me express the deep fear rooted within me. But those slips of paper will never see anything besides my hair stooped over my delicate figure; they'll never hear anything louder than my quiet voice ringing in the empty house.

The arched form of the dolphin reminded me that there was always hope. That there was always a form of escape just as how Airon had escaped the pirates with his music. It helped remind me that there will always be a chance that I can escape from the fear surrounding me, and that one day, I'll join Andromeda among the stars.

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